


Punched

by ikkka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Blood, Blood and Injury, Drabble, Fights, Fist Fights, Gen, Hurt Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Protective Spock (Star Trek), Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkka/pseuds/ikkka
Summary: McCoy gets punched. Twice. Yowzers.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	Punched

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I wanted to experiment with fight scenes, something I never write, and I chose McCoy as the lucky character to take a beating! For science, of course. There is no plot to this, it is literally just McCoy getting punched, Spock getting defensive, and Kirk getting very, very offensive.
> 
> I've been considering adding onto this and giving a plot, but my past experiences of adding plot after writing blurbs have never turned out successful. So I'm just posting it here as it is!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Lovingly titled "not sure what to do with this, aka McCoy gets beaten up by purple Spoctor" in my Google Docs.

McCoy immediately forgot what whimsical story he was telling to Kirk and Spock when the spike-knuckled fist colliding with (and consequently shattering) McCoy's jaw sent him through a harsh _crack_ back into reality.

He stumbled back a few feet, tripping over two barstools and bashing the base of his spine against the edge of the bar counter. He barely managed to catch himself from his fall before the alternating fist collided again, this time sending a sharp spike right through the bridge of his nose.

He was heavily disoriented now, if he hadn’t already been after the first throw. He heard a roar of a scream--one he had gotten to know well over the years of landing missions gone wrong--and when the pressure on his nose elevated, he heard a faint _snap_. Another sharp surge of lightning pain radiated from his nose and spread out into every crevice of his brain. His jaw positively throbbed, and when he went to move it to call out, all he felt was cracked teeth and the trickling of blood oozing out of his face.

He couldn't see. White stars and multicolored spots danced along his retinas, and when McCoy tried to see past them, he was met with crippling pain. He felt a gentle hand press softly into the side of his face least affected. He thought it was his own hand, until he realized both of his hands were still death-gripping the side of the bar. He felt familiar calloused fingers tracing his jaw, accessing the damage, and smearing blood on his cheek.

"Can you hear me?" Someone asked. McCoy, past the ringing and the sickening sounds of two people getting pummeled, could make it out as Spock’s voice. He could've sworn he could _feel_ Spock's distress through the fingertips settled on his skin.

"Yeah," McCoy managed to croak out. He licked his lips. Despite the wetness of his blood, his throat felt like old chalk that had been bashed with a sledgehammer.

From the corner of McCoy's visual disturbances, he saw a burgundy scaled forearm propel right towards him.

"Spock-"

The hand on his cheek was swiftly removed, and he could see the majority of his vision change from the amber of the candlelit pub to the desaturated blue of a long sleeve Starfleet uniform as Spock stepped in front of him, caught the attacker's fist from beneath the knuckles with his hand, and swung him with such strength that he toppled over in a distance McCoy couldn't gage.

In a sudden burst of bravery and adrenaline, McCoy pushed his body off of the bar with his hands, only to stumble forward, yelp, and get caught by Spock roughly grabbing his shoulders.

"Let me at him," McCoy growled, heaving through the rough of his throat and the no doubt massive amount of blood he was losing. "Let me at that son of a bitch, I'll teach him-"

"You are going nowhere except the Enterprise." Spock's voice was closer and much more grave than McCoy thought it would be. McCoy blinked rapidly, then squeezed his eyelids down as hard as he could. When he opened them again, the dancing branded into his eyelids was still there, but he could make out Spock's face hovering inches away from his own.

"You have a spike of your assailant snapped off and lodged in the bridge of your broken nose. Your jaw is in place, but severely fractured. The being which attacked you, and the entirety of his species, carry a faint psychedelic secreted out the knuckles, which is no doubt currently clouding your vision. You are by no means in any shape to walk on your own, let alone fight; and if I understand our situation correctly, I not only have to transport _you_ out of here, but I also have to quite literally _drag along_ a very angry and very _violent_ Captain Kirk."

Something familiar moved in the distance, and McCoy's eyes fixed to a flurry of yellow in his peripheral. He could make out Kirk pushing a profusely bleeding alien against the bar tabletop. Kirk grabbed for and raised a pint glass half-full of alien beer, and without hesitation he smashed it against the alien's already beaten head. The holler the reptilian let out, no doubt from the alcohol seeping into his freshly created wound, rippled the air and split in his ears.

Spock's grip tightened around McCoy's shoulders, and his eyes snapped back to the science officer. He was outwardly emotionless--stoic as always, the damn Vulcan--but McCoy could see the tension in every twitch of his muscles, and see into his eyes: filtered anger and anxious worry were relayed directly into his very soul.

"Now _stay_." He ordered. McCoy was technically outranked, so he nodded, though he doubted he could physically disobey even if he wanted to.

Vision clearing but still blurry and corrupted, McCoy instead focused on the ringing subsiding in his ears. He heard the continuous howls and shouts of a multitude of creatures, and could hear Kirk giving the alien that originally started it all one _hell_ of an unorthodox lecture.

"I will kill you with my own two hands!"

Savory, McCoy thought. Despite the burning ache all over the front of his face, he cracked up a bit. Black was starting to creep around the border of his vision.

"Spock to Enterprise," he heard Spock say, distant, almost as composed as ever.

"Let me go, Spock!"

"Jim, you're delirious. Three to beam up, have medical personnel ready."

McCoy heard Kirk's grunted protests grow louder and closer until he felt the heat Spock radiated near his right side. Then, he felt nothing. His entire body dematerialized and re-materialized aboard the Enterprise in a near instant.

His knees buckled before McCoy could even register his consciousness. The next thing he felt was a piercing cold penetrating his skin and the throb of his head as he fell to the transporter floor, bashed his head against the corner of the edge down, and passed out.


End file.
